It's Still There
by RandmWriter
Summary: At the end of the day, you don't really need words...


Pierre Dulaine is a clueless man.

This is a fact set in stone, and anyone who has ever truly known him can attest to as much.

It's alright though. There are worse flaws to be had, and it's actually borderline endearing.

Nonetheless, the man _really_ needed to know how to take a hint.

He's not unobservant. Far from it rather. As a dance instructor, he has learned to see most everything: from the twitch of a muscle to the minute mistakes in a couple's positions.

He sees things without trouble - but interpreting what he finds? That is another matter entirely.

When he lays a hand on Tina's shoulder, he sees perfectly well that a... _something_ flickers across her expression - but it takes Caitlin's very blunt "She likes you" for him to actually understand what it was.

When Sasha jumps into his open arms after the stunning three-man-tango no one ever saw coming, he is aware of the whispered "thank you's" in his ear. He is, however, oblivious to the fact that by hugging him, Sasha had shown him more gratitude and affection than her parents had ever been subject to her whole life.

When Kurd comes knocking at his door, he knows the young man is in distress. What he doesn't know is that the dreadlocked boy had confided to him what he has not told a soul. That Kurd - for some godforsaken reason - trusts Pierre more than any adult he's ever known. Trusts the dance teacher enough not to judge and simply be there to listen, unlike his absentee drunkard of an uncle.

The foreign man's cluelessness was exasperating, endearing and _just the tiniest bit_ frustrating for the people around him - but they are also grateful for it.

Because if Pierre could take hints like any normal person, he would have left the detention class long ago.

If he had known to interpret their manner at the beginning of their journey, he would have known that the 'rejects' of John Lake High had regarded him as nothing more than a pathetic wannabe fighting for a lost cause. At the start of it all, they had simple danced to appease him and to silence his horrible music. They had really, truly and _sincerely_ not given a single damn about his ballroom dancing, and could not have cared less if he failed to show up the next day.

But Pierre didn't know that. And he stayed.

And they all thank the heavens that he did.

This is another thing that he sees yet does not truly understand.

He sees that the days following the competition, they all respond faster at his call of "Positions!". He sees something different in their eyes when they regard him, though he can't ever quite place it. He simply brushes it off as their joy and pride at what they have accomplished.

Again, if he was just the slightest bit more perceptive, maybe he could have guessed at the unspoken yet unanimous decision of his students: that he was now seen as a father by eleven different children.

None of them had seen it coming either - and yet if asked, they would all answer in the affirmative.

It wasn't the result of just one of his actions though, but rather everything he had done once put into perspective.

He had taught them willingly. He was bound by neither contract nor salary to them, and yet not once did he miss a lesson. Not even when their own teachers rarely made an appearance.

He had not judged them either. He did not treat them as outcasts or rejects; did not look upon them as the black sheep of the institution. They had been treated with infinite patience and tolerance, and given the same respect as his advanced upper-class students. This change had been so unfamiliar that it had all but startled them.

But they would agree that the most unsettling thing of all was the fact that he had believed in them.

No one had ever seen their potential - never even tried to look - any yet this man had come out of nowhere with his slightly broken English and ideals on ballroom dancing, and _believed_. Believed so much that it scared them to the point that they wanted out. They had intended to simply wait it out. To wait until he realized they were of no value and gave up on them as everyone else did.

He did no such thing; and so they took matters into their own hands and decided to give up on themselves.

He did not allow them to do that either.

They thought they had found their escape at the two-hundred dollar entrance fee, and so when he said that it was no matter - he would handle it, it had shook them to their core. Not only because he was willingly shelling out what was no small amount of money for them, but because they realized that no - there was no way in hell he was giving up on them.

And their resolve had sprouted then and there: they would not let him down.

They shone brighter than the heavens that night; when they had laid bare their very souls on the dance floor for all to see - heads held high and shoulders squared as he had taught them.

And when the night had finally come to an end, they saw all he had done for them in its entirety. It was then they realized that in his own damnably quiet way, Pierre Dulaine had wormed his way into their hearts.

He had grown far too close and far too important to them now.

And so when he enters a room, they try to smile. When he starts to speak, they try to listen. When he thanks them, they try to say the words "you're welcome" instead of their usual "uh huh". And when they catch his eye, they try to communicate their gratitude and just the barest hints of their unadmitted affection.

He doesn't really see. Or maybe he does. They don't know.

Because when the class is comprised of undemonstrative students and a hopelessly clueless teacher, the message takes quite a long time - if it ever does - to get across.

But that's alright.

It's there nonetheless.


End file.
